12 Steps to Love
by TheSilverSolstice
Summary: "So you're saying in twelve steps I can finally get Romano." "Yes. Twelve steps that's all you need…" Dating for 5 months and going nowhere England begins to fret his relationship with Romano is only a dead end on a one way street. So when he's offered a deal from the "love-devil" how can he refuse? Engmano with France
1. It's A Start

**There is definitely not enough love for this pairing! And as the Tsundere lover I am of course this couple would be listed in my OTP list XD **

**Tsundere X Tsundere~ **

**Anyway this was just a little idea that kind of developed into something a little bigger, this is also my first attempt at anything that could be remotely considered humour XD I suck at it but I will try hard :3**

**I hope you enjoy!**

**EDIT: I'd love to thank my Awesome Beta (JustSomeRandom) for helping me improve this~ I freakin' love her XD**

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England knew something had to be done about Romano.

England sat at the world meeting, his ankle crossed over his knee and hand resting gently on the side of his black polished shoe. America stood at the front of the room, with it being his turn to host the world meeting. His mouth was open and words tumbled out but nothing was reaching the Englishman's ears. Instead, his focus was on the dark haired nation only rows down. Romano was lumped in his seat, absently cleaning his nails. Once or twice he would look up to swat away Italy's paper aeroplanes or to flip the bird at the Spaniard that teased him with small, whispered coos.

For the last five months England and Romano had been dating.

This wasn't a problem, although it did seem to irritate a number of other nations due to the fact that despite their short tempers and potty mouths, both men were highly desired. No, England assured himself, that wasn't what bothered him. In fact he liked how much it pissed France, America and Spain off, he relished in the dirty looks. All of them could go fuck themselves.

But what did bother England was not what was outside, but rather what was in their private relationship, if it could be called even that. What had England so bothered at night, distracted him during work and caused him to drink a greater amount that usual on Friday nights was that... Neither had shown any signs of advancing their intimacy beyond private handholding, leaning against each other on the sofa and those small, chaste kisses that never lasted long enough. In the beginning England had always put off taking it a step further, always assuring himself that things would happen when they were meant to, a mindset he truly regretted now.

And it bothered him terribly, when he saw the other human couples that surrounded him, even other nations seemed to have better luck than he did in the bedroom. He looked down from the top floor where he sat across at the nations who were in open relationships and some not so secret to everyone but themselves.

Italy and Prussia; Prussia was sitting on the floor next to Italy, as he had no real seat in the meeting, but tagged along anyway just to spend time with Italy. The two of them folding their papers into small nifty aeroplanes, and chucking them around the room.

America and Japan; while America stood at the front England glanced down at Japan who was sketching a rather... _steamy_ piece of artwork in the margin of his notes. England nodded, he had heard of that kind of thing before in Japanese culture. People in Britain called it boy love, but he had heard the term 'Yaoi' floating around. He guessed that's what he was drawing, what with it featuring a _very_ muscular America and a blushing Japan. England felt his cheeks heat as he dragged his eyes away. Well, that was more than he had hoped to learn about their relationship.

Spain and Belgium; they sat either side of Netherlands, whispering to each other behind his back and falling into little fits of girlish giggling. England rolled his eyes, how Romano had ever dealt with the Spaniard will forever evade the Englishman.

Russia and Liechtenstein; He wasn't quite sure what it was between those two that worked. Yet despite what Switzerland said, they did look cute together. England watched as Russia wrapped Liechtenstein in a matching scarf and she handed him a small set of knitted gloves. It was a bit hard to believe that the two were quite close in age despite their physical appearance. A quiet shuffle beside him brought England to the present, a present he'd rather not receive.

"France" He bit out.

"Arthur" The said nation purred, his pearly whites glistening. His headphones hung around his neck uselessly. It seemed really no one was listening to the babbling American. Poor idiot.

"That's England to you," England snapped folding his arms, something France noted. "This is a professional meeting _France_, be sure to treat it like one."

France gave a short laugh, smiling.

"Oui, I'm sure that's why you've been taking notes?" France drawled, gesturing with far too much flourish to the love hearts spilling all over England's page that he had been idly drawing while thinking of all the love around him.

"Yes," England answered curtly "Taking notes, country relations should always be monitored"

France chuckled lightly.

"So how are things with you and the little Italian, hmm?" France sat back mimicking England's stance with his ankle over his knee. He ran his slender fingers through his fringe and resting it behind his head. England felt his hands and legs heat up before the heat trailed up his chest and spine his neck and then face.

"Good, things are quite good." He said, voice steady.

"I'm sure," The Frenchman scoffed.

"Yes, it is, so you should be sure." England snapped, getting irate with the man's presence.

France then crossed his own arms, eyeing England speculatively.

"England, folding your arms is a defensive gesture. Either you're still afraid of me," He smirked, knowing full well why the man was defensive. "Or you have something that's got you on edge"

"Shut up, as if I'd be scared of the likes of you, damn frog! And I have nothing to hide!"

Ukraine, Belarus, Russia and Liechtenstein looked up at the hissing Brit. Belarus gave England a nasty look, putting a deceptively delicate finger to her pink, pretty lips.

"Shut up, yourself," She hissed, eyes narrowed dangerously.

England gulped and meekly nodded back, much to the amusement of the Frenchman.

"Mon Angleterre, if I were…. say, America? Then I perhaps you would have gotten away with such a poor excuse of a... Well, excuse!" He laughed, though it did little for the others irritation. "If I had to guess I would say... You're unhappy with your relationship because it seems to be going no where... Am I wrong?"

England shook his head numbly. France smiled and continued.

"Have you had sex?"

Shake of the head.

"Fingers, tongue, dildos?"

England sighed and shook his head, he wasn't completely sure why he felt the need to allow France in on his sex-life (more like sex-less-life) with Romano, but maybe the country of love could possibly have the remedy to cure the need, want and burning lust that gnawed at him.

"What about oral?"

"No"

"Have you ever even been naked together?" France seemed distressed.

Another shake.

"Um, kissing?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess." England shrugged.

"You guess? What? Did you miss his mouth or something?"

"No, you git! I mean we've kissed- on the lips- but we don't really do more than that... We hold hands sometimes, when we're alone, and we watch movies on the sofa. He kind of lies on me, or beside me, whatever's more comfortable at the time..."

France nodded, face grim.

"Look, I don't need your help-" England started, but France shushed him with a finger to his lips.

"No, you really do." France then placed a hand on England's knee, his eyes determined. "I promise you England, I'll get your sex life up and running in no time"

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**Okay so the next chapter is already written but I won't update until I'm at least half way though the 3rd chapter (Which won't be too long ^^') Just so I don't have massively long breaks in-between updates~**

**Thank you for reading and reviews honestly give me the fire to keep writing! **

**Reviews are love guys~ 3 and I do respond to everyone of them~**

**Edit: I have been asked who will top... Weeeeeeelllll I do love both as toppers so I guess even I will have to wait until I get to it! ^^**

**Next Chapter: (Step 1: Kissing)**


	2. Begin With A Kiss

**I'd just love to start of with a HUGE thank you to all the people who favourited and followed the story! It means a huge amount to me and thanks to your encouragement I was able to write the third chapter in a record two days! XD **

**Thank you to TheDeadOne28 and The Artist Formally Known As for your reviews and thank you to SlifofinaDragon and XDAsakichanDX for your follows! I will have you know that everyone one of these are my fire and my encouragement to write! 3 love you all X3**

**EDIT: THANK YOU MY LOVELY GORGEOUS EDITOR! I fricken love her, seriously, she needs a medal XD**

**Now for Chapter 2: Begin with a Kiss**

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_"I think to start off with a kiss, deep and passionate, not that prudish brush of lips. It has to be open mouthed, with tongues and saliv-"_

England had shut the Frenchman up before he could get into any more detail. He'd felt a little giddy since the meeting, he was waiting for the right chance to start following France's... instructions.

The present was a much more pleasant situation; lounging on the sofa with Romano lying beside him, his chest against England's hips and his head resting comfortably on England's chest.

He felt wrong.

It felt wrong that he couldn't think of anything pulling that perfect flawless face toward him and kiss those soft pink pouting lips. He wanted to feel that unblemished skin beneath him, his lips, his chest, his stomach, his navel, his-

Romano coughed and moved slightly his chest pressing against England's waist. England felt his face heat up.

This was a regular occurrence now.

England would often find himself fantasising about how he would take the young Italian. How he would ravish him and drown in the others moans and cries of shivering delight and pleasure...

Of course, England knew that sex hurt - a lot- the first time.

Maybe that was one of the reasons why he didn't push the issue. He didn't want it to be something he pushed the other into doing, knowing that Romano might get hurt. Romano would never want to have sex again, which in a way, England realised, would be worse. So, England saved his fantasies for when he was alone and in the dark.

He found it easier to fantasise in the dark, like the dark was a blank canvas that he could paint with his visions of; red lust, white pleasure, dark blue need mixed thoroughly with violet desire.

Romano sighed as the movie England had been pretending to watch ended. He picked up the black remote and flicked through the channels of British shows, game shows, black and white British romances and re-runs of David Tennant as Doctor Who. He then suddenly turned the TV off. England looked down at his lover, well if he could even call him that, who looked tired his eyes heavy lidded.

"Tired?" England almost tagged a "Love" at the end but stopped himself, assuming it would just be awkward for both of them.

Romano nodded rubbing his eyes. England felt his stomach fill with small butterflies. Although he wouldn't dare say it aloud he thought the young Italian was one the most adorable things he'd ever seen, especially when tired and his usual guards were down.

"Yeah., the bastard, Spain, called me last night"

England stiffened, the Spaniard had called? Again? England felt tiffed. Didn't the Spanish dolt already have a girlfriend?

"Oh" England pretended to not be too bothered. "He did? What did he want?"

Romano laughed scornfully.

"The bastard just wanted to talk, kept me up the whole damn night." He yawned and began to sit up, his hair fluffy and sticking out from where he had been resting it against England and the back of the sofa.

England frowned. He had nothing against Spain, they were on better terms now given their rocky past but he still felt a little funny about how much Spain still fretted and obsessed over Romano. He understood that Romano was Spain's for a while but that was just the same as America had been his... But he hardly ever fretted over the American unless the wanker had misused and abused his beautiful language... Why couldn't he just use the 'u' like everyone else? Nobody else found it so bloody hard!

Romano would always complain to England about how much the Spaniard irritated him and how much he hated it when Spain teased him calling him "cute" or even worse, his childhood nickname: "Lovi".

England knew though that despite how much he claimed to detest the attention, secretly he loved it.

England sat up, knowing full well that his hair was going to look as bad if not worse that Romano's. Romano stood and bent over stretching out his stiff back. England found himself staring at his perfect backside. He felt his face get hot and made himself look away.

"What did he talk about?" England cringed at how he sounded, worried and a bit upset. That wasn't good. Luckily though, Romano didn't seem to notice. He was now bending backward hands on his lower back a large crack sounded before Romano sighed, content.

"His economy is giving him migraines, he just needed a distraction..." Romano curled is two fingers to make quotation marks. " He said 'Talking to you reminds me of old times when things were so much better'. The old bastard's stuck in the past!"

England could have just misheard but to him Romano almost sounded... Sorry? For Spain? England took a breath.

"Do you miss the old times?"

Romano paused, eyes narrowed.

"Che?"

"Do you miss the old times? You know, with Spain." England stood also finding his back was slightly stiff. It took a second before Romano reacted, hitting England in the shoulder.

"Pfft, as if! I'm glad to be away from that idiot, I'd rather live with Italy anyway." Romano looked up at England, who felt slightly hurt by Romano's comment. Romano rolled his eyes realising why the other looked sulky.

"Being with you isn't half bad either, moron." He gently slapped England again."Such a fucking girl..."

It was then that England realised, it was the perfect moment.

**_~Begin Sexual Relationship~_**

**_~Level: Kissing~_**

It started with a small, but pleasant kiss on the side of Romano's lip, who froze at the touch.

"What are yo-" England silenced him with another kiss, this time directly on his mouth, the shape of Romano's mouth perfect for the kiss. England began to feel worried as Romano didn't respond to his kisses but, at least he didn't push him away. Right? England lowered his head and began to kiss the smaller nation at the base of his ear travelling slowly down.

"B-bast-ard," Romano moaned. "That tickles." England looked up a brow raised.

"Does it feel good?"

Romano's face glowed red, his cheeks ablaze. Silence followed for several seconds before Romano looked away, his eyes half closed.

"Y-yeah, its fine..."

England smiled sweetly and leaned forward to kiss the dark haired Italian. He travelled back up to his lips and began deepen their kisses, gliding his fingertips up and down Romano's back, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. They had kissed before, but not like this. England only hoped Romano liked it as much as he did.

"W-why?" Romano stuttered out.

England paused and stroked Romano's lower lip thoughtfully.

"Because... I like you, Romano."

England felt like a wanker. No, he didn't just like Romano, he adored Romano! He loved him, and the fact that despite their nasty personalities and awkward relationship, England had found a person with whom he had found a home. It was with Romano that England could be more... Arthur. Yes more Arthur, the human side of him, the one with faults, the human that had lived the life of a nation, and the human that deserved a fucking break!

Romano stared at England, or rather Arthur, and smiled. It was a small smile that hardly reached his lips but played happily in his rich brown-flecked green eyes.

"Yeah. I like- I like you too, bastard."

**_0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o 0_**

England was having an inner turmoil. The gross, thick, greasy kind that sticks to the inside of your stomach making it feel ten times heavier than normal. It had been there for the last two days and England fed up with it. So one train ticket later, England found himself outside the house of the one person that could possibly help him... Although he wasn't too sure this was the best idea...

"England! Bonjour! What brings you to my _beautiful_ estate?" France opened his large wooden, oak door decorated with coloured glass, his face brightening at the sight of the Englishman.

England scoffed and pushed past the grinning blonde to get inside.

"You know exactly why I'm here." England took off his jacket and lazily laid it on a table decorating the hallway. France frowned picking the jacket up and dusting it off before hanging it up.

"Don't put your jacket there," He paused frowning. "Didn't I buy this for you?" England tapped his foot impatiently, sighing.

France then spun on the ball of his foot cheeks slightly red. "If it's about what happened in Moscow last year, I'm still incredibly sorry... It was just that I was so drunk! And-and so where you! You can't pin this all on me!"

England frowned, his forehead creased in confusion. Then realisation hit him hard.

"I thought we promised _never _to speak of that." He bit out.

France shook his head, a hand held to his forehead as if he couldn't understand what was happening.

"Then why are you here?" he finally asked.

"It's about Romano and I," England stated, rolling his eyes, France could be as air headed Italy sometimes, maybe it was a Latino thing.

France's eyes lit up.

"Oh, of course!" He stared at England, who began to shuffle uncomfortably. "What's wrong?"

"Uh let's talk someplace... Someplace more comfortable, perhaps? As in, not in the middle of a hallway."

France nodded and guided England to his study, despite England already knowing the way. England knew France's house back to front, given how often he had walked these halls and memorised the place in case he ever felt like giving the git a well deserved scare sometime in the night.

Once seated in a velvet armchair behind a large oak desk, France smiled giddily at England, seated in the armchair adjacent.

"So?"

England stared back his expression neutral, he still wasn't a hundred percent sure coming here was the best idea.

"So what?"

"So what happened? Every detail, do not leave anything out! I must know!"

England closed his eyes. Yes, now it was apparent this was a very, very bad idea.

"So I followed your advice an-"

"Did it work?" France interrupted, too excited to wait.

"Would you please calm the hell down!" England flushed "A-and y-yes it did... We kissed... And we have been doing it more so ever since..."

"When?"

"I think it was last Wednesday" France nodded, today was Tuesday. Less than a week and England was already crawling back for more advice from the country of love. He could feel his head growing slightly under his long, blonde locks.

"So why have you returned?"

It was a simple enough question, so France couldn't fathom why it took so long for England to answer. First he turned bright red, his lips pursed tightly. Then he failed to be able to produce words, finally he seemed to be running out of air.

"I just- I really needed to- it was almost like..." England spluttered as France pursed his lips.

"You want sex?" England was now redder than before, even though France had written that off as physically impossible.

"God! Fuck no! I mean - yes! But not- No!"

"Don't think you're ready?"

"Of course I'm fucking ready!" England felt almost insulted. "Its Romano I'm bloody worried about!"

"I wouldn't be worried, mon ami" France opened a draw in his desk producing two glasses and a bottle of wine. England felt like rolling his eyes, how painfully typical of France, choosing to ignore the fact that he himself kept a whiskey stash under his desk draw. "Romano isn't exactly foreign to sexual encounters." France said coyly.

England felt his neck heat, pulling at his collar he furrowed his brow.

"What?" He muttered.

When had Romano been in a relationship? When had the younger nation been that close to another to allow them to...Was this why things had taken so long to progress? Had someone not been so kind and now Romano was reluctant to follow the same path?

"England, please, you couldn't possibly be that out of it, could you? It was quite obvious..." France then saw from England's blank confused expression that, yes, England was completely unaware of Romano's past. "Spain, England, Romano was with Spain."

England now felt a new emotion grip his veins and clench his heart: anger.

"What!? But he was his boss! Romano was way too young! That's just sick!" England fisted and pounded harshly on France's desk. "Didn't someone say something to stop him!?"

"No you misunderstand, it was when Romano was older that they began their relationship, well sexually anyway." He shrugged.

This still didn't rest lightly.

"They're like brothers!" He cried.

France just grinned.

"Yes just like Canada and myself are brothers and - just like America and yourself are brothers... These things do not stop us, do they mon ami" France's grin was so dark that England felt his body break into cold sweat.

"Okay, okay I get your point..." England mumbled. The only thing he could feel better about now was that Romano wasn't a virgin, so he at least he could expect Romano to be slightly okay with it... Right?

"So since we've begun to kiss... What do I do now?"

France only giggled.

"Okay, listen carefully..."

-End of Chapter 2-

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Thank you for reading the latest chapter! Reviews are love and my fire to write! I will answer every one of them! The next chapter (Chapter 3) should be up in the next two weeks! (Written and typed) I might have to upload it without it being beta'd so I apologise for any horrible grammatical mistakes... I have a huge lacking in grammatical understanding XD.

Chapter 3: Train of Thought

Chapter 4: "My Italian Pleasure"


	3. Train of Thought

**Hello! Beautiful readers! First off again I would like to thank everyone who reviewed! You honestly make my heart soar. TheDeadOne28 and Tamagoakura Thank you! ^^ And a huge thank you to those who added it as a favourite! Suzie Loux. I would also love to thank those who added it to their watch list. Anothai, Tamagoakura, SlifofinaDragon, XDAsakichanDX and Suzie Loux. Thanks again, you make his boy very happy ^^**

**I finished this a lot quicker than I expected so I thought I should update, since I've already finished Chapter 4 as well ^^**

**Thank you for reading!**

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_"Romano is just like you, Angleterre. He's quite emotionally constipated at times. I would try to get him in the mood, not for sex, not just yet. Just take him out to dinner in a restaurant, maybe an Italian one, a good one."_

England huffed, pulling his coat around his torso tighter to ward off the cool breeze. 'I'm not emotionally constipated!" he fumed. 'I just don't wear my heart on my sleeve like certain others."

It was still light as he left Francis' house in a fuming rush. After slotting in his return ticket, England stood by the train tracks waiting for the next train to arrive. It was then the thoughts began tumbling, sending him into a circle of ponderment. After his recent visit, naturally they began with France.

France, although dubbed the country of love, still was a worry on England's mind. Was following the Frenchman's advice really the best for his relationship with Romano? Or was France slowly leading England on to derail their relationship further, leading him on to make a complete and utter fool of himself. England sighed. The train pulled up into the station and many business-like suited bodies pressed up against him, pushing away He found himself a seat directly across from a young girl and boy reading a French story book.

He wouldn't put it past France to mess his love life up on purpose… it would be his final hurrah, his final blow to his long lasting rival. Pulling his arms over his chest England kept his eyes downcast avoiding eye contact with the other silent travellers.

At least, so far, England rationalised, nothing the Frenchman had said seemed off track or particularly ludicrous, as the man tended to be at times. As England had mentioned to France earlier, he and Romano had been kissing more often. Every time they met, a small kiss was shared and with every goodbye their kisses lingered softly before Romano would pull away, all to soon for the Brit's liking. This led England on to thoughts of his boyfriend.

He had first heard of Romano when Spain, under his guard after the defeat of his Armada, became somewhat delirious due to dehydration and began blubbering pathetically about a "Amorcito" and "Mi Tomate". What England had come to realise was that Spain, very much like himself, had a stretch of territory, Spain's being the south of Italy. Of course at the time England had never laid eyes on the small land mass so it was quite a surprise to find such a handsome young man waiting to greet him with his politicians when England had come to meet the new unified Italy. It was a buisness trip, all about making roots and connection within the new European nation. England hadn't really paid much attention to the 14 year old boy who stood wary of him whenever he visited, but Romano always seemed to create an excuse or reason to leave. Otherwise he would stay just out of the way staring at him through narrowed eyes.

The first time they had spoken to one another was when England arrived to create and discuss battle strategies during World War 1. Romano, he remembered at that time, was in his late teens, presumably 18. It was something about that closed space Romano had himself in that really drew the curiosity of the Brit in. Maybe it was the attraction of the familiar or maybe it was because Romano was a sexy young man whose words held so many hidden messages and double meanings that England felt the Italian was a puzzle, an unfinished puzzle.

England, always being up for a challenge and being the naturally curious one he was, was willing to piece the puzzle back together just so he could marvel at the finished masterpiece. It was somewhere along the way of his puzzle fixing that he found himself falling further and harder for the younger man.

It began with harmless and yet memorable compliments every time the Italian did something well and encouraging, thoughtful suggestions every time he faltered. Every word was spoken softly. Gently. Genuinely.

It escalated to lingering touches that sent England's skin buzzing with fire and Romano's face the most charming red England had ever seen. But nothing compared to the night when, after a small meeting hosted in Germany, many countries decided on a night out at the bars. Both England and Romano attended. It was soon after midnight, piss drunk, that both men found themselves with unbuttoned shirts, ties tied around their heads, singing horribly and loudly to the soppy old music played over the airwaves of the bar. Many countries had left, resigning for the night, but both England and Romano stayed battling out how loud they could sing. It was then, after a huge lapse in his better judgement, that England decided to pronounce loudly that he wanted with go out with Romano.

To which Romano responded by punching England in the face.

England hopped off the train in London burying his hands deep within his pockets and tucking his chin into the crook of his scarf. His eyes scanned the many restaurant signs that lined the streets, none of which, he noted sadly, seemed to be even remotely Italian. His green eyes, however, fell across the warm glow of a pub just down the street much like the one of that night. He smiled as he passed the rosy windows and the happy faces of people laughing inside.

But back then every face in the bar held the same expression of horror and surprise, but no one more horrified and surprised than England. He had imagined many ways his confession would play out. Being punched in the face wasn't one he had accounted for. England still couldn't fathom what it was that drove him, although he could somewhat blame it on the alcohol when he dove for Romano, throwing them both to the floor sprawling, swinging punches that were more likely to hit themselves than the designated target. It wasn't long before both men were sent rolling onto the cement outside, by the bouncer, to cool off. England rubbed his nose, frowning.

"What the bloody fuck was that for!?"

"Don't fucking joke about such things! It's not funny!" Romano's face was red and had a small splotch on the side where either England or himself had hit.

"Who says I was joking?"

Romano paused, staring at England whose brow was furrowed. He grimaced back.

"Don't fuck around England. I know you. I know what you do."

"What do I do?" England questioned, his eyes daring. "What does that even mean?"

"You Fuck and Duck," Romano growled. It was at this that England grinned.

"Quack."

"Shut up!"

England shrugged, annoyed.

"Well what does that even mean, "Fuck and Duck"?"

Romano rolled his eyes.

"Your relationships are fucking for a night or more and then leaving because you get bored. I know you. I know the kind of person you are Arthur." He smirked. "I bet that's why so many countries hate you."

It was England's turn to smirk.

"I guess in a way you are right. I do leave when I get bored, not because I feel that fucking is all a relationship is good for but because there is nothing to those relationships but fucking. They are neutral shallow people, no density, no deepness, no puzzle to them, so, I get bored."

Romano remained silent. England smiled.

"So my dear Lovino you seem to think you know everything about me? Huh? Well now it's my turn." His smile turned slightly wicked. "You won't commit to relationships because relationships lead to pain and loss, things you won't or don't want to deal with because it reminds you of how little you have and how pathetic you are. You're always second to Italy because he's talented, useful and likeable, unlike you. So you now feel inferior, have an inferiority complex if you will. You fake a loud and brash façade just to reinforce the walls you built around yourself. The less people you let in, the less hurt you get. Am I wrong?"

Romano's face was red from anger and embarrassment. England only smiled sweetly, taking a small step toward the shorter man.

"The answer is yes, yes I am wrong because you are much more than that…."

Romano stared. His face confused as to what to express.

"Those were things that everyone knows… or think they know.. But you, you are much more complicated and much more intricate than that, and yet… still so simple.

Yes you are afraid to commit to relationships because you are afraid of hurt and pain and loss, because you have seen how much it affects those around you, especially your brother when Holy Rome dies. You don't want to go down the same internal destruction your brother did because although you may not always show it, you want to be the rock, the stable one, the one that your brother has to lean on. Romano you are afraid of letting people in because you feel as though you are unworthy of love. Your self-doubt tells you: you are pathetic; you are useless; but you are not. You, my dear Romano, are worthy of love. You are not useless, you are brilliant. You are not pathetic, you are beautiful. The only reason you haven't found someone to love you yet is because it is they who are not worthy. They want shallow. They want neutral. They want easy. They want boring. Not I Romano. I want depth. I want density. I want a puzzle. I want difficult. I want you."

England smiled. He remembered how, with eyes full of tears, Romano stared him down, his perfect lips in a frown. It was then that he strode up toward England, a fierce look on his face. England at the time wondered if he was either going to be kissed or punched again as the smaller nation took a firm grip of his collar. But neither a pair of lips nor a fist connected with his face. Romano only frowned, his deep hazel eyes examining England's face before he parted his lips finally.

"Next week. This time. The restaurant across the street." It was with a small glint in his eyes that he gripped the collar tighter. "You're fucking paying."

A soft chuckle burst through England's lips, eyes deep with nostalgia. It was Romano's way of asking him out. He hadn't expected the other to take the lead like he had but it had only excited him more. Romano was unpredictable, he had come to realise not too far afterwards. One moment England thought he had him all figured out and then Romano would do something England would have never imagined. Whether it be icing his burnt scones into little Christmas decorations on Christmas morning or stealing all the light bulbs in England's house so they would be forced to live by candlelight during Halloween. He always denied all of England's compliments but England always caught that creeping pink flush that dusted his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. The time he almost crushed England's remote after an argument during a soccer match and again when a soap opera ended on a major cliff hanger. To when he tenderly looked after England during his more off days while also accusing him of being a pussy and to "man the Fuck up!"

It was then by sheer luck England paused in his thought process just outside a small cozy restaurant named charmingly: "My Italian Pleasure." He smiled, opening the glass door into the warmly lit restaurant.

"I hope this is good enough."

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**Well sorry for my incompetence with grammar... But the 4th chapter is already written! Just awaiting to be Beta'd! I have planned out the 5th and written most of it already. I will upload the next chapter soon-ish!**

**Chapter 4: "My Italian Pleasure"**

**Reviews are love and my fire to write! Please review~ **


	4. My Italian Pleasure

**Hello Lovelies! I'd love to thank you all so much for your reviews follows and favourites!**

**My heart goes out to you all! To CoffeeLux, Xou, Kaleighbugg and Russia's Fangirl for your Follows! You guys are fantasic! **

**To IsokaiNeko and Luty Malfoy who Followed and Favourited the story. You both have no idea how much that means to me.**

**And to Lylinn who Followed, Favourited and Reviewed. I think sometimes the only reason I keep writing is because of the encouragement people like you give me... My love to you :3**

**Okay I am really sorry for the lack of updates and lack of editing done on this chapter... but I hope the length makes up for it?**

**My editor has a lot of work to do, but she promised me that when she's on holidays editing should be quicker~**

**My love to all those who don't follow review or favourite but just read. Thank you but I can only know how much you appreciate it when you let me know by doing either of those things ^^**

**EDIT: NEW AND IMPROVED VERSION! XD THANKS AGAIN TO MY AWESOME EDITOR! **

**-Mr Alex**

* * *

"What's the occasion?"

England found himself under scrutiny by Romano who lay comfortably on the couch, coffee and novel in hand. He had his feet tucked under a soft blanket and the TV on as quiet background noise. It wasn't unusual for England to find that Romano had let himself into his house. The first time he'd let himself in, England found him making a small pot of pasta claiming that now they were dating he wasn't going to risk him dying from his own cooking. It's still puzzled him as to how Romano had gotten inside in the first place, but now it just became routine for England to leave a spare key under the pot plant just outside his door.

"No occasion." England shrugged.

"No reason at all?" Romano pressed, raising a brow.

"Nope, just a night out for the two of us."

Romano frowned and looked back down at his book, turning a page slowly. England, though, could read his expression of disinterest.

"Wrong answer." He said finally, looking up through his eyelashes.

"Pardon?"

"What's the date today?" He asked closing the book loudly.

England shuffled uncomfortably on his feet before seating himself on an armchair across from Romano, his elbows settled on his knees.

"It's – uh- the eleventh."

"Of…?"

"February" England closed his eyes, a hand to his temple. "Why?"

Romano rolled his eyes, sipping his coffee and flipping the book back open.

"Figure it out yourself, genius."

It was at this that England knew he was forgetting something. Something important enough for Romano to be this annoyed about. Romano didn't have anything on, did he? Something he might have told England once when he busy… and now he'd forgotten? England paused. Had Romano left him clues? He thought back to their previous conversation…

_"What's the date today…?" _As England had answered, it was the eleventh of February, but what did it have to do with going out tonight? He places a finger to his mouth, chewing on the side of his nail. Eleventh of February… Eleventh of February…

_"What's the occasion…?" _Why would Romano even ask that? He'd always been a suspicious one, always scrutinizing everything England did, as if he couldn't believe anyone would do something nice without there being some sinister motive. But, England was finding that since they'd begun dating he was letting those barriers down slowly… Very, very slowly. Hopefully someday he could destroy those barriers completely, maybe in a year, perhaps in only six mo-

Oh shit.

On the eleventh of August, Romano, on the steps of an old German pub had asked England for a date… They'd started officially dating 6 months ago…

How could he possibly forget that!?

"You forgot, didn't you?"

England inhaled sharply when Romano spoke.

"No! No! Of course not!" He denied, shaking his head franticly.

Romano looked up, arms crossed.

"Well, even if you didn't, I guess you still made plans…" Romano smirked. "But you're paying! It's your punishment for forgetting."

England felt the guilt melt out of him.

"Of course. I wouldn't expect it to be any different from all those other times I've had to pay." England grinned.

"Maybe if you stopped doing stupid things-"

"Like, confessing loudly in a pub?"

"And forgetting our fucking anniversary, bastard." Romano smiled softly. "Maybe then, but just stop doing stupid things and maybe, just maybe, you might not pay one night."

"Can't" England moved from the armchair over to the sofa just beneath where Romano's feet were curled up under a coffee coloured blanket. "I just seem to do stupid things around you." He smiled.

Romano blushed before biting his lip lightly. With a small smile on his lips and a book in hand, he sat up whacking England across the shoulder.

"Idiot." He teased.

England always knew, with the both of them being the romantically awkward people they were, that their relationship would never be like the soppy love movies America seemed to love. But it was moments like these, these small, yet perfect moments that made England realise he wouldn't have it any other way…

…Until he remembered he hadn't been laid in over seven months.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"This is it." England cut the engine to his Rolls Royce just down the street from the restaurant, the golden lights from the windows spilling out into the night. It had rained since England's last visit to the restaurant the cement glistening like fairy lights strung over the footpath.

England turned to the Romano in the passenger seat; his arms were crossed eyes half lidded in annoyance. "Oh c'mon! Don't tell me you're still upset about not being able to drive."

Only thirty minutes prior, Romano had snatched the keys to his new Lamborghini, dangling them in front of his face.

"Tonight, _I'm_ driving." He announced a smirk on his lips, daring England to oppose.

England sighed, pushing Romano's hand down from his face.

"Do you even know where the restaurant is?"

Romano hesitated.

"If you told me I would."

"This isn't Italy, Romano, and sadly we don't have time to be pulled up by the police for reckless driving and then spend another thirty minutes while you verbally abuse them."

England snatched the keys from Romano's hand, producing his own from his back pocket.

"So, I'm driving."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"It's a new car! Can't a man drive his own fucking car?"

England undid his seat belt.

"Not if that man reads a red light as: Speed up! You might just make it!" He opened his door stepping out before leaning over the doorframe, a small smile on his lips. "Are you getting out? Or am I eating alone tonight?"

Silently, Romano undid his seat belt, opening his door and then slammed it shut. He walked around the front of the car to England, who then closed his own door firmly. England snaked an arm around Romano's hips pulling him into a one-armed hug, kissing him gently on the temple.

"Cheer up grumpy." He teased.

England led the way down the footpath toward the restaurant. _"My Italian Pleasure"_ stood out in scripted text on the sign outside the door. "Italian. I thought you might like that."

Romano smiled into his scarf, a pink flush on his cheeks. Then, taking England by surprise, Romano reached up and kissed him gently on the cheek.

"Thanks bastard, but don't think I'm not still miffed about the car. I'm going to order the most expensive dish on the menu tonight."

England rolled his eyes. "Again, should I have expected anything different?"

Romano slapped England gently on his chest before walking up the steps to the glass door of the restaurant. The front foyer was warmly lit with raindrop chandeliers, and rich, thick carpets that covered a large part of the dark stained wooden floorboards. What added to the charm of the foyer were the set of antique armchairs placed around a sculpted wooden coffee table just in front of a small bar.

"Signori?" Romano gave the door to England who shut it behind them. A waiter of small stature settled himself behind the front desk, his thick grey moustache spoke as his lips were hidden underneath. "Reservations?"

England rested his elbow on the edge of the desk.

"Under Kirkland."

The waiter raised a brow before sliding a finger down the page of names in a large beige book. He stopped before looking up with annoyance.

"You're early."

England looked at his watch.

"Only by twenty minutes."

The waiter's moustache frowned.

"Well then I guess you should take a seat." He gestured to the set of chairs in the corner, before gathering two small hard covered menus labeled in a golden text "Menu da Bar".

"Bar menu" He announced, Romano looked up with a raised eyebrow.

"I know. I can read Italian." He said smoothly. England marveled at how he was able to sound so sincere and yet threatening at the same time. The waiter sniffed before taking his long overdue leave.

"Snob." England murmured. Romano settled into the lounge, his jacket and scarf draped over the back of his chair.

"What are you getting?" He asked examining the menu. England removed his heavier garments, instead letting them drape over his legs.

"Well, seeing as I'll be spending most of my money on your dinner alone, I guess I'll just have a beer."

Romano looked horrified.  
"You can't have a beer! This place is fucking posh." He flipped the page. "Let's just get a bottle. We can share."

England nodded his agreement, his finger wrapped around his chin thoughtfully.

"Well what do you think?" Romano asked after a few moments of silence. England blinked, he realised he had spent the last little while studying Romano's profile more than the list of reds and whites in his hand.

"Um…"

"How about a Champaign?" Romano cut in, seeing as England didn't have any helpful suggestions. "A Verve Clique? Or maybe a cocktail? A Bellini sounds nice…"

_'And __expensive'_ England thought. "A Bellini is a bit effeminate, don't you think?" He smirked closing the menu and placing it down on the coffee table. Romano blushed. "I mean, unless that's your thing. It's okay-"

"We're getting the Verve Clique then." Romano snapped. The bridge of his nose, cheeks and the tips of his ears burning red. England smiled waving the waiter down.

"If you insist."

A quarter of a Verve Clique later, both men were escorted to a secluded table situated by a window, half shrouded in the thick red curtains. Romano glanced around at the other customers before turning back to England, a small smile on his lips.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you picked this table on purpose."

England smirked.

"You caught me." He said, raising his hands defensively.

Romano picked up the larger menu opening it up.

"Okay, so it looks like the most expensive dishes are seafood."

England stared at him, his brow furrowed.

"I thought you didn't like seafood."

Romano smirked.

"Tonight I'll make an exception."

England chuckled.

"Wanker."

"Are you sir's ready to order?" Romano looked up to find an attractive waitress standing beside him, her notepad and pen in hand. She was blonde, her long wavy hair tied into a low ponytail that rested on her shoulder, and had bright hazel eyes. Romano smiled charmingly.

"Si, I would like to order the lobster and the dish of oysters to share." He orders, casting England a side-glance. England smiled back crossing his arms over the table.

"I'll just get the Boscaiola." He winked. The girl blushed. When she had left, Romano kicked England in the shin beneath the table. "What?"

"You winked at her!"

"And you purred at her." England gave a crooked smile.

"Pervert."

"You rolled your 'r's more than necessary."

"I always roll my 'r's! That's how I speak!"

"Si, I would like to orrrrrrderrrrrr" England mimicked, his voice dripping with sensuality. Romano shook his head, laughing silently and kicked him again.

"Bastard."

England smiled before standing up.

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom." England answered, weaving his way through the other tables.

But, before England entered the gentlemen's room, he took a turn to a more cut off part of the restaurant, where the constant murmur of the restaurant only became muffled and quiet. He pulled out his phone dialing a number before placing the phone to his ear.

"Oui?" The phone crackled.

"France."

"Arthur! What do I owe the pleasure of this call?" The man purred, making England grit his teeth.

"I just called to update."

"Well from what I can see things are going pretty well."

England paused for a moment, processing what he had just heard.

"….What?"

"It wasn't nice to leave your boyfriend like that Angleterre, he looks a little bored." England scoured the room in search for the Frog, but found nothing.

"Where the hell are you?"

"He's biting his nails…. That's a bad habit."

"Francis!"

"I'm across the street." England could tell the other was smiling. He rubbed his forehead.

"How did you find us?"

"Angleterre, it wasn't that hard to call up the several Italian restaurants around your home and ask for a reservation under 'bushy brows.'"

"I'm laughing." England said sourly.

"As am I" The other quipped followed shortly by a soft chuckle. "Your food has arrived, the oysters at least."

England rested against the wall, arm tucked under his elbow.

"I just called to update you; tonight has been going really well and if this whole thing pulls through… there's a small chance that I'll be able to put up with you." He smiled.

"You could owe me." The blonde said voice crackling.

"How so?"

"Oh, just something small, like a kiss?"

"Not happening." England snapped, hanging up and setting his phone to silent, before walking back to his romantic dinner.

"Where did the oysters go?" England pulled out his chair frowning. An empty plate lay in front of him, all twelve shells empty.

"I ate them." Romano drawled, picking his teeth smugly.

"I thought we were sharing." England whined, bemoaning the loss of food and money.

Romano crossed his arms. "You took too long."

"I was only gone for six minutes."

"Two oysters a minute." Romano said, smirking.

England shook his head before taking a sip of his Champaign.

"Sorry." He gave a glance outside, seeing a man sitting at the bus stop opposite, a large newspaper covering his face. The man lowered the paper slightly, a flash of blond locks and a pearly white smile. "I was caught up by unwanted problems."

"Old man." Romano chuckled.

"Sir? Your Lobster." The blonde waitress had returned holding two large plates in her slender arms. "And your Boscaiola, sir." She laid the plates down.

With another side glance at England, Romano turned holding eye contact with the woman flashing her a crooked smirk.

"Grazie Bella." He said smoothly. Flustered the poor girl left hurriedly both cheeks flaming. Romano just looked back at England his smirk turned victorious.

"You're such a fucking tease." England shook his head disbelieving.

"You fucking love it." Romano dug into his meal, leaving England to twirl the long pasta strands around his fork as he stared at Romano wrestling with the white flesh of the animal.

"You got a little something on your lip." Romano spoke gesturing to his own lips.

"Here?" England wiped at the side of his mouth. Romano shook his head.

"No, more to the left."

England wiped beneath his lip. Romano grew frustrated sighing.

"Bastard, hold still." He reached across the table and wiped gently above England's top lip with the edge of his thumb. England opened his lips slightly allowing his tongue to lap up the sauce off Romano's finger before kissing it lightly. Romano pulled back slowly his face heating up. England smiled.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He replied curtly avoiding eye contact.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Dinner was… it was nice." Romano rested back into the passenger seat of England's car, a small smile, and eyes at half mast. England glanced over at him, echoing Romano's smile. He put his blinker on turning on to his street. It had been a slight debate on who would drive back seeing as both had drunk substantial amounts of alcohol, England had won since he was still able to walk straight.

"Tired?"

"Sorta, just feeling a little out of it."

Silence followed before England pulled into his driveway.

"You could stay the night." England waited for a response before realising that Romano had already fallen asleep. His cheek rested against his shoulder and the back of the seat, his jaw slack. England chuckled to himself before parking the car. "I guess you are…"

England carried the other up to his room and set him down gently on his bed. Romano murmured something unintelligible and England smirked removing Romano's shoes, coat and scarf. He was just about to dress himself in his night shirt when he noticed the bare skin of Romano's chest, visible because of the undone top two buttons. England stared at the caramel skin rise and fall as he took each breath. England moved back towards the Italian, watching his face for any sounds or movements that gave away his consciousness. He bent down, fingers gently undoing another button, allowing more of his toned chest to be scoured by England's lustful eyes. He wanted to touch it, it was a need that ached in his stomach and throbbed in his body. He wanted to feel that soft skin under his fingers and kiss down that chest, all the way down his stomach. He wanted to let his hands roam down and over Romano's torso. See it. Feel it. Kiss it. All of it.

_He knew what he would do. Slowly, he would pull the shirt back exposing one of Romano's small, brown nipples…_

England, his throat suddenly dry, finding it hard to swallow, was letting his mind go again. He wanted to let his instinct take over, allow himself to indulge in such an art of beauty. He shut his eyes, his mind spinning free.

_..Then again, once more keeping his eyes trained on Romano's face he would lean down and press his lips gently to Romano's collar bone. He would feel the angular bone beneath Romano's warm skin. He would press small kisses up along the bone around to his exposed shoulder. He would want more. Oh, how he would want more…_

England was snapped back to reality when Romano turned his head a soft pant and an extended moan drew from his lips. England stepped back quickly, his body burning with embarrassment. What was he doing?! What was he thinking!? Even for fantasy he had almost gone too far… and Romano was unconscious too! England slapped his face, breathing deeply. It was wrong, oh so wrong. Pacing in the small confinement of his room England tried to calm himself down. It was then that Romano shifted again, this time his moan much louder. This time England realised these moans weren't of pleasure, but of… pain?

"England?" Romano croaked. England froze before quickly moving to Romano's side.

"Yes? I'm here." He crooned, smoothing back Romano's hair.

Romano looked at him, eyes glazed and skin clammy and hot.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

In the bathroom, England held back Romano's fringe and bangs as he retched and threw up everything his stomach.

It was fair to say it was a long night.

* * *

**Annnnnnnnnd that is why I don't eat oysters... **

**I hope you guys liked the update, but please don't forget to favourite, follow or Review as any sort of support helps me write and write quickly! ^^**

**I also hope you enjoy the addition of Spain in the next chapter~ (Warning: Yandereness)**

**Reviews are love~**

**-Mr Alex out-**


	5. Unwanted Guests

FIRST OFF!

I would love to give a massive huge ass THANK YOU! To everyone who favourited and Followed this story! I'm so sorry that it took me forever to update this ((I do recall telling you all I wouldn't do that XDD)) BUT I HAVE A GOOD EXCUSE! -My editors computer completely kaputted and she lost the chapter SO... Even after this massive wait it isn't edited ((AKA IT WILL SUCK ON AMERICA'S JINGLE BELLS~))

I WILL PUT UP THE DETAILED THANK YOU'S LATER SINCE I HAVE TO RUN NOW LOVELIES~ BUT HERE HAVE A CHAPTER~

With Love and Candy~

-MR ALEX

* * *

"It's food poisoning." England held the phone between his ear and shoulder as he applied a cool towel to Romano's burning forehead. Spain had called during the early morning, his voice cheerful yet worried why Romano hadn't gone home last time. England knew what the Spaniard thought, and sadly he wished it were the case. "He's been sick since late last night."

"I'm going to die." Romano moaned loudly.

"No you're not." England scolded pulling the duvet up over his shoulders. He took the phone into his hand. "He's here with me now. I think it might have been the oysters we ate at the restaurant last night. He ate about two dozen of them." England gave a pointed look at Romano, who rolled his eyes.

"I've always fucking hated seafood. Shit - food." His groans grew louder, and overly dramatic. England placed his other hand over the receiver.

"I need to be able to hear Spain, Romano be quiet." He left the room closing the door behind him. He started his way down the stairs listening to the Spaniard on the other end make tutting noises.

"Locally sourced, I imagine. Only the best from the British waters." He said, a light chuckle following.

"I wouldn't know." England said levelly, entering the kitchen. He wedged the phone back in between his ear and shoulder while he filled the kettle up in the sink.

"He's in a pretty bad way." He put the kettle on its rest, turning it on. "All clammy and pale. He was throwing up all night, that and - well, he's pretty much getting rid of everything I give him. I'm just worried that he's not getting any nutrients. He needs to be able to keep something down long enough to digest it, at least."

Spain made a soft noise, as if he were thinking hard.

"It sounds like you need me there then, I'll be over soon."

The phone dropped and the dull beeping of the deadline filled the speaker. England sighed and hung up on his end. He walked back up the stairs and back into his room. Romano had wrapped the whole duvet around his body, like a cocoon. He was staring out the window in England's room, staring listlessly at the gardens that wrapped around his house. Beyond his steel fence was the road that lead onto the city.

It was a brighter morning than most. For the first time that week, the sun peered out at the city of London, flooding the city with a warm light. But from where England stood, the light only highlighted how pale Romano was.

"Spain's coming." He stated, his expression emotionless. Romano turned to face him, as he situated himself in the armchair he had hauled up the stairs to put beside the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Shit." He stated bluntly. "Why is he coming?"

England shrugged.

"He's your family."

Romano just groaned. England grabbed the plastic water bottle he had put on the bedside table.

"Thirsty?"

"A little."

"Here." England helped Romano prop himself up against the backboard of the bed. He raised the tip of the bottle to Romano's lips. The Italian drank deeply before pulling away his brow creased.

"I feel like a fucking baby."

England smirked."You look like one too."

He really did. With the light brown duvet, Romano looked like either a caramel caterpillar or a new born baby, wrapped with its head poking out the top.

"Fuck off."

England put the bottle back. "Should I call Italy? Let him know you're here?"

Romano grimaced."No, he'd just freak out."

England stood up. "I guess all that's left is to call your old boss…" He gave a desperate look to Romano. "Wish me luck."

Downstairs, the kettle began to scream…

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

When his door bell rang, England wasn't expecting to open the door and be attacked by a crying Italian. Nor did he expect to be threatened by said crying Italian by a lethal bombardment of meatballs, directed at his home, car and self.

What he _was_ expecting though, was the painfully cheerful aura of Spain as he walked in. Obviously, he asked for Romano straight away.

"He's up stairs. In my room." England told him politely.

Spain looked at him a mix of surprise and worry before sprinting up the stairs, leaving England to deal with the Italian that had attached himself to his waist. That's what you get for trying to be civil.

Feliciano was wailing about how England had killed his brother with his cooking. England raised a brow.

"It wasn't my cooking that made him sick." He stated, sounding calmer than he felt. "We ate out."

Italy pried himself off England, and looked up at him.

"Spain said it was you." Feliciano said in confusion.

England sighed.

"Of course he would." He ran a hand through his hair giving it a disheveled look. Italy stood, head bowed meekly while he played with his fingers nervously.

"Sorry…" He said quietly. "I just thought-"

"It's okay." England cut in. Spain's heavy foot fall sounded on the wooden stairs behind him. England turned to see his usually smiling and cheery face now the picture of concern. He held an empty mug of tea in one hand tightly.

"Feli." Spain called lightly

Italy looked up, his eyes worried. "Is he okay?" He questioned.

"He's _very_ sick." Spain said slowly.

England, even thought the Spaniard hadn't even acknowledged him, felt the statement was very much pointed toward him.

"I told him you were here, you should go see him." His voice sent Italy silently up the stairs. As soon as the Italian nation was out of sight, green shining eyes smiled at England, sending cold chills down the Brits spine. "I don't know what you've done to him-"

"-I assure you I have done nothing to him." England snapped. Spain held his cheerful grin.

"You think I care? My Romano is the sickest I've ever seen him! Why haven't you taken him to the doctors? He needs medical attention!"

"You know full well why I can't do that!" England felt his blood boil, frustration burning in the bottom of his stomach. "Have you forgotten?! We need to keep our identities hidden. Going to the doctors is going to raise suspicion, people will start asking questions. Romano, Italy, you, all of us! We _cannot _reveal ourselves!"

"I don't care. Romano is sick, Arthur, and it seems all you are good at is making cups of tea!" Spain growled, his smile becoming more strained.

"What could a doctor do anyway? Romano isn't human, he's a _country_. What could a human doctor _possibly _do?"

With an innocent smile and a chuckle just a bit too sharp, Spain dropped the empty mug. England made to catch it, but the smooth ceramic slipped through his fingers. He stood back up, closing his eyes. He could feel a migraine coming on.

"He could do more than you." Spain hissed, smile dropping for the barest of moments.

"WHAT the FUCK do you WANT me to DO!?" England's roared.

Spain only shook his head and smirk still playing lightly on his lips.

"You're bad news, Britain. You're bad for Romano. He never should of left me… He never should have gotten caught up with _you_!"

Something inside England snapped. He lunged for the Spaniard, clutching his collar tightly. Slamming Spain into the wall opposite, he slammed him against it with each point with each point.

"Why?"

_Slam. _

"So you can continue fucking his ass? You still want him back!"

_Slam. _

"Don't you! You never liked sharing your toys."

_Slam._

"You haven't fucking changed. Well fuck you!" England held the other to the wall tightly. "Romano is with me! You fucking lost when he LEFT you."

Spain's eyes were as wide as his grin, a horrible delight crossing over his features. Then something dawned on England.

"What about Belgium?"

Spain's silence remained. England felt almost disgusted.

"She's not good enough is she... You tried to replace Romano- But she isn't good enough... Isn't she?"

England felt as though he might have finally reached into the Spaniard, but he was proved wrong. Slowly, Spain's lips twisted into an upturned curl, his eyes darkening in the shadow of his face.

"Has he said it yet?"

England creased his brow, his hold on the dark haired man's collar.

"Said, what?"

The Spaniard smiled darkly.

"Has he even said '_I love you'_"

England felt his stomach drop as though a brick had materialized inside it. His heat rose to the back of this throat. He even found that the air seemed to have been ripped from his body, making his chest tighten.

In all six months that they had been together, Romano had never uttered those three words.

"He hasn't said it has he?" Spain's smirk was cruel and victorious as England lost his grip, his face fallen. "That's a little sad."

England growled shoving the other backward, making him collide with the wall with a thud.

"If it weren't for Romano, I would finish what I started all those years ago." The former pirate's eyes shone, dangerous, gleeful in the sight of the flash of fear in the other's eyes. It was then, that a timid Italy came down the stairs, biting his lip.

"Is everything okay? I heard shouting." His eyes flickered to the shattered mug on the floor.

Spain's whole demeanor changed. He smiled sweetly at Italy, all darkness vanishing with a flash of his grin.

"It was nothing." He said quickly, while flashing a swift threatening side glance at England. "Did you talk to him?"

Italy shook his head.

"He didn't seem too happy to see me, I think he's a little annoyed that I came too."

England mimicked the fluent expression change of Spain's and smiled softly.

"I think he was just worried you would panic. He didn't want you to worry about him."

Italy smiled, but England could still feel the electric tension between himself and the two-faced bastard beside him.

"I had better get this cleaned up." England murmured before leaving for the kitchen to fetch the broom and dust pan. He took this time to calm himself down. Anger still throbbed in his body, frustration, confusion as to how to react when the Spaniard had pointed out something England had never even thought of and a small feeling of incompleteness. Once he was sure that he had most of the feelings under his control, he finally began his way back taking a deep breath.

He heard hushed murmuring that stopped abruptly upon his arrival. Spain jerked back from Italy's ear. England raised a brown but said nothing. Bending down he swept up the shards quickly, the silence ringing loudly in his ears. Finishing, he stood again.

"I'm going back to the kitchen, can I offer you anything? Drinks? Tea? Biscuits?"

Italy's mouth opened to respond but Spain cut in quicker. He smiled sweetly, but his tone was anything but.

"No, you've done enough."

The next hours were spent divided between awkward and forced snippets of polite small talk, the tension still held strong in the glares Spain sent toward England whenever he thought Italy was distracted, and restrained arguments between the two on how do to certain tasks concerning the care of Romano were frequent and always seemed to cease quickly when in the presence of someone else. They finally came to an agreement between the three of them. They would take hourly shifts sitting by Romano's bed and take care of him, alone.

England was fidgety and restless during Spain's hour. Time passed so painfully, his stomach knotted with apprehension and anxiety. Based on how the Spanish nation had reacted earlier, England had no idea what he might do when he was alone with Romano for an hour. Especially when Romano's usual guards were down.

England finally put himself out of his misery by, at five minutes left in the hour, taking a glass of water up the stairs to take over for his hour.

Spain was flicking from his phone as England opened the door. His dark emerald eyes narrowed on England's forest greens.

"That wasn't an hour." He seethed checking the time on his phone.

"It isn't, but first I need to speak to you."

Spain hesitated , but got up, taking the glass from England's hand and placing it on the bedside table gently, as to not disturb the sleeping Romano beside him.

"Yes, we do need to talk."

Once outside England shut the door with care.

"You need to remember, Spaniard, this is about Romano. Romano is sick and that's all I care about. I don't give two fucking shits about your problems, or regrets, or relationship issues with Romano. I could have quite easily told you that Romano was fine and he had just slept over for the night." England said this with a hint of mischief in his eyes. "But I didn't. You know why? Because I know you care for him, deeply. And despite what's happened in your past, he still thinks of you as family. That's why I told you the truth, and that's why I didn't throw your fucking ass onto the street for the shit you just _love_ to throw at me."

Spain stared, expression hard and stony faced, but soon he looked away unable to compete with England's towering demeanor.

"Just don't forget that." England made to leave, but Spain jerked out suddenly grasping the Brit by the crook of his arm.

"That may be true." He said, tone unreadable and his smile childlike. "But you're exactly the same" His other hand reached deep into his pocket to remove something, only to then place it in England's hand. "You still haven't changed a fucking bit."

England opened his hand to find a small packet of condoms and a travel friendly plastic cylinder of lube. Funnily enough it had been America, when on his last business trip to the United States, who had given him the travel pack containing both items. He closed his fist again.

"You were looking through my drawers." He stated coldly. Spain's smile only widened.

"You can tell a lot about a man by what he keeps hidden in his drawers beside his bed. So don't play the sincere and caring part, England, don't pretend to have changed. Don't be fooled by your own false entitlement of a "Gentleman". Deep down, you are still that fucked up pirate. You always will be. One day, you'll hurt him, you'll hurt Romano and guess who he'll run to? Me. With my arms wide open. That's when he'll be mine again. It is then that I will have_won._" It was then that Spain's face transformed from hostile to slightly maniacal. That sickly sweet smile still planted on his face, his innocent and happy tone completely misplaced by what he was saying. "But I swear the moment you_do_ hurt him, I will track you down. I might not be able to _kill_ you, but I'll make you wish I could."

England swallowed deeply. Slowly, he took a deep breath and tried to keep calm. He closed his eyes and spoke evenly.

"An hour is up."

Spain spun around and made for the stairs, but England stopped him with one last comment.

"How young _was _Romano, _España? _They say it started when he was older, but it that _really _how it went? How _long_ were you thinking about it, _Conquistador_?" England drawled.

Spain stood still, his hand clenched on the railing of the stairs with an iron grip. After a moment had passed, he silently walked down the stairs, leaving England to smirk at his small victory. He opened the door and stepped into his room again, shutting the door firmly behind him.

England grabbed a book from his shelf and propped himself comfortably in the armchair. He flicked through the book with an air of disinterest, his eyes trailing over the pages. It was after five minutes that England put the book down beside the glass of water on the table, preferring just to watch the steady rise and fall of the cocoon beside him.

Spain's words played on his mind, dancing in the darker shadows of his thoughts. It was as if the Spaniard has thrust him into a deep hole within his own self with his eerily cheerful smile.

I love you.

Three words.

Eight letters.

Hundreds of meanings.

Was it really so odd that neither had uttered them in the six months they had been dating? There were so many opportunities, and the timing would have been perfect. Christmas. New Years. Both holidays had passed with both nations watching specials on TV and drinking wine with crackers and dip. Romano would also spend the festive period with his own family, this left England with the choice of either begrudgingly accepting America's Christmas and New Year party invites, or spend it with a bottle of rum and a stack of old rented romance pirate films.

Those times would have been perfect perfect for those three words. Numerous opportunities had presented themselves, but neither had ever felt the need to say it. In fact he could say honestly that he had never even given it a thought before that Spaniard had taunted him. Why were they so content without saying it? England knew it his heart Romano loved him. He could tell by the way he looked at him and how he spoke. Funnily enough, it was the times when Romano insulted him that England knew he loved him. His double meanings and hinted vulnerabilities showed England how much Romano trusted him. It was during those moments when they sat down together, watching TV and just enjoying each other's company in silence that England could say he felt truly content.

No, he reasoned, he knew Romano loved him whether or not he said it aloud. But then again, England paused; did Romano know that he loved him? Was he able to know without England saying it directly? He bit his lip harshly.

"Hey, Bastard…"

England snapped his attention to Romano whose eyes were barely open, his lips were cracked. He looked so weak, so incredibly weak…

"Do you need water?" England reached for the glass, and brought it to the others mouth. Romano shook his head slightly.

"Are you hungry? What's the matter?"

Romano shook his head again.

"I…"

Something clicked inside England's head. He wasn't sure what made it so, but it was the perfect moment.

"Romano I need you to listen to me."

Romano's eyes tried to focus on England's blurry face.

"I've never said this before, but now I've realized that I should have said it earlier… So much earlier, because I've felt this way for a very long time…" England cupped the Italian's pale face between his firm and warm hands, gently stroking his fringe from his unfocused eyes. "…I just wanted to tell to you that, I lov-"

It was then Romano could no longer control himself.

Bile was everywhere, mostly on the bed and England's face. Romano, after his physical release, closed his eyes losing consciousness.

Pursing his lips to keep the acidic liquid out of his mouth, England brought a hand up to his face and scape some of the bile off. "I do believe that could have gone better." He said wryly, as a suspiciously large chunk dripped from his hair.

* * *

I APOLOGISE FOR MY FAIL YANDERE!SPAIN ((Yes, that _was_ what I was trying to achieve XDDD)) BUT! After editing this should be at least readable... =^=

I will hopefully update again soon~

ALSO! I would love it if you guys could follow me on Tumblr ((I will be posting short stories and drawing and Updates on there so that would be fantastic! :D ))

- thesilversolstice /tumblr/ com

((Next Chapters (( Written but Unedited))

- Chapter - 6 - Bathing in Jealousy

- Chapter - 7 - Take a Step

- Chapter - 8 - Falling on Drunken Ears))

-MR ALEX


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